New Year's Eve
by RoseFleur
Summary: Rachel gets stuck in a lift on New Year's Eve with a tall, handsome stranger...


**A/N: I do not own Glee, nor Lea's new film 'New Year's Eve' which inspired me. This is a future fic so all is not as it may seem but it's still the characters we know & love, and if you look closely enough you might notice some other Glee characters mentioned less explicitly. I really hope you enjoy, this is a much longer fic than I'm used to writing, but I know you guys like that so please, PLEASE, let me know your thoughts because they mean the world to me. Enjoy. _Peace&Love xo_**

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><p>Rachel darted through the corridor, hurrying towards the lift. If she made it out the building in time she would be able to get home and change before heading to Times Square with Kurt and Blaine. Not that what she was wearing wasn't suitable. Her figure hugging, strapless royal blue dress came to about mid-thigh and could be worn for going out into town or for work. She'd pieced it with a black blazer today to display a clean cut, professional dress for her job as a theatre critic.<p>

She made it to the lift just in time, the doors were about to slide shut when someone stopped them and she dashed inside.

"Thanks," she said breathlessly, flicking her fringe out of her eyes.

"No problem," said the someone, "Lobby?"

"Please," she asked and looked up to smile.

The someone was a very tall, handsome someone. His dark brown hair was styled messily and matched his deep chocolate eyes, framed with black rectangular glasses. Around his chin he sported a few days stubble giving him a rugged yet somehow smart look. This look was echoed in his attire: he wore a light grey suit, with a crisp white shirt and a neat, thin black tie, held with a silver tie pin. Under his arm he carried a large black folder of some sort.

That was always the kind of thing that happened, you'd see the most wonderful, attractive guy in a lift, and after the short five minute ride, never see them again.

Rachel dragged her eyes away and checked her small silver watch. It was 8.30 now; she cursed herself mentally for staying late to finish up a piece that really could have waited until after the New Year's break. But as Kurt always told her, she was addicted to her work. She'd always loved writing in high school but never thought she would pursue it professionally because of her passion for the theatre. But as college rolled around and she failed to prosper in any auditions she gave up her dream and turned to journalism. This way, she reasoned, she could combine her love of theatre with the joy she felt putting words together. They paid her to go and watch show after show after show and just write her opinions on it. When she thought about it, it really was a dream job and often on nights she found herself staying late to 'add an extra thought' or 'brush up the vocabulary' because she couldn't bear to drag herself away from her pieces.

Kurt had reprimanded her for this more times than she could count and would constantly sigh over dramatically when they had shared an apartment and all he could hear was her tapping at her laptop, working on reviews. More recently however, he had moved out to go and live with his boyfriend, Blaine and Rachel was left alone to tap as much as she liked. There were negatives and positives to this; she missed having her friend to confide in nightly and to help her choose outfits for the outrageous dates he set her up on, however this way she always cherished the time she spent with him and always had gossip to tell.

She sighed and looked at the lift monitor, willing it to move more quickly. Suddenly, it jolted and stopped altogether. She clutched to the hand rail and her eyes widened worriedly.

"What's happened?" She asked, to no-one in particular, voicing her fears.

"I think the lift has stopped." The man replied, smiling gently.

"I pretty much got that thanks," She snapped, blowing air up into her fringe. Then she shook her head and composed herself. "Sorry, I'm not usually like that, I'm just not a fan of small spaces and I'm meant to be meeting a friend of mine."

"It's okay." He said, smiling again, "New Year's party?"

"No," replied Rachel, "We're going to Times Square to see the countdown and the fireworks."

"Oh wow, sounds good." He conceded before adding, "I hope we get out of here in time so you make it, but it looks like we might be stuck for a while." He looked around the metal chamber hopefully, wrinkling his nose.

"I hope so too. I guess all we can do is wait." Rachel sighed softly.

"I'm Finn, by the way, Finn Hudson." The man held out his hand politely and Rachel grasped it.

"Rachel Berry." She greeted him, flashing one of her signature smiles. "What about you?" she asked,

"What do you mean?" Finn shook his head, confusedly.

"What are your plans for tonight?" Rachel prompted.

"Oh," smiled Finn, regaining himself. "I'm not really into the whole New Year thing. I'll probably just order Chinese and watch a movie."

"Fair enough." Rachel reasoned, "Sounds a little lonely though,"

"Not at all," he countered, "I don't mind the peace and quiet of isolation. I'm quite a mellow kind of person, so all the extravagance of New Year can be a bit overwhelming and ostentatious to me."

"Fair enough." Rachel repeated.

There was silence for a moment before Finn asked,

"Are you a writer?"

"Yes," beamed Rachel, happy to talk about her work. "I'm a theatre critic here in the building."

"A theatre critic? Wow." Finn nodded, seeming interested.

"It combines my two passions: writing and theatre." Rachel expanded, gesturing as she did so.

"I did a bit of acting in high school," said Finn rubbing the back of his neck absent-mindedly, "But I'm much more of a behind the camera kind of guy." He continued.

"Really?" asked Rachel, "You're a director?"

"Photographer." Finn corrected holding up his portfolio.

"Can I see?" questioned Rachel hopefully.

"Sure." Finn affirmed and he opened the file in his palms.

They were all very artistic shots. The first was entirely black and white, a large-mouthed man with a mop of what looked to be blonde hair stood in the centre of a white room, and his feet splayed apart, one hand in the pocket of his dark jeans, the other tipping a fedora hat which half covered his face. His shadow was depicted on the white floor in front of him, echoing every movement from the curvature of his elbow tipping the hat, to the distance between the outward points of each foot.

The next was a shot of two girls, contrasting the previous with its bright blasts of colour. The first girl was a Latina, with a strong bone structure and a pouting mouth; her dark hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail and she wore a short, tight, shocking fuchsia pink dress, with thick shoulder straps and a deep V neckline. The other girl was ice blonde, with blue-grey haunting eyes; she too had her hair tied in an almost painfully tight ponytail and wore the same dress as the first girl but in orange. They were positioned in a glass chamber, and seemed to be battling with each other as to who would be in the foreground. The Latina had won, as she leaned overbearingly towards the camera, her hands spread on the glass, one on the front pane, and one to her right. The blonde stood behind her, and upon taking a second glance it could seem like _she _had won. Her hands were on the other girl's shoulders and it could be perceived that she was pushing the girl down as she stared haughtily at the camera.

The final shot was not in a studio. It was outdoors, a motion shot, of a beautiful Asian girl on a swing. Her eyes were smiling, crinkling in the corners and her mouth laughed widely. She looked poised and elegant on the swing, leaning back, her head thrown to the sky elongating her neck. Her right leg pointed gracefully whilst her left bent elegantly underneath it. Her long, straight black hair whipped in the wind and framed her face charmingly. She wore a simple white cotton dress, a contrast to the brown of the swing and the green of the grass around her.

"Finn," Rachel murmured after some time, "These are stunning. Some of the most wonderful photos I've ever seen."

"Thanks," Finn smiled, blushing slightly. "I'd never really thought about photography as a career, I just went everywhere with my camera. But then I took a photo of my high school girlfriend before our Junior Prom and my mom said it was the most gorgeous picture she'd ever seen of Quinn, my girlfriend, and the lighting and the positioning was so tasteful that she encouraged me to pursue it. I'd always thought I would just do football like the other guys at my school, and like Quinn wanted me to do, but the energy I felt taking photos was so different and so much better than being hit around on a field."

He took a breath. He'd never opened up to anyone like this before.

"What did Quinn say to that?" asked Rachel open-mouthed, intrigued by his story.

Finn shrugged, "She wasn't happy. She broke up with me when I told her I'd applied for photography and went off with some other guy on the football team. She wasn't that great a girlfriend anyway. Not heard anything from her since."

"How sad," Rachel mused.

"Not really," Finn contradicted, "I got to live out my dream and she got to live out hers."

"I suppose," Rachel agreed.

She shuffled agitatedly and looked around the metal room again. Her feet were aching; she'd been in these black stilettos all day. She bent down and slipped out of them, resting her feet on the soft carpet.

"Wow." Finn said, his eyes wide, staring at her.

"What?" She looked up and felt her face awkwardly.

"Nothing," said Finn hurriedly, "It's just… You're tiny."

"Oh yeah," laughed Rachel, "I'm used to it. Or maybe," she pointed out, "You're just abnormally tall."

"This is also possible." Finn concurred putting his head on one side.

She slid down along the right wall of the lift and massaged the balls of her feet. Glancing up at Finn she giggled and said,

"Come and sit down, your height is far too intimidating from here." She patted the carpet beside her and Finn took his place next to her, leaning his portfolio up on the opposite wall.

He peeked at a leather wrist strap watch with a large mechanical face. It had been an hour and a quarter since he'd got in the lift at half past eight. It was only two and one quarter hours until New Year. He voiced this to Rachel telling her it was altogether possible that,

"You might miss the whole Times Square thing with your friend…" He trailed off and Rachel prompted,

"Kurt, and Blaine." She finished sighing softly.

"Is Blaine your boyfriend?" Finn asked glancing over at her.

Her eyes crinkled as she chuckled, "No, Kurt and Blaine are together. I'm a single pringle." She shrugged, patting her knees, smiling slightly.

"Me too." Finn smiled back. "So Kurt and Blaine are the couple then?" He asked and Rachel nodded.

"Yep, I've been best friends with Kurt since high school and when he met Blaine we sort of just became this three, I guess."

"Do you never feel like a bit of a third-wheel?"

"I suppose," Rachel bit her lip, "But Kurt would never do that to me, he's been with me through everything, always looking out for me. We're both so passionate about the theatre we just clicked entirely."

"Is he in the theatre?" Finn asked, seemingly interested.

"A costume designer," Rachel beamed with pride from gushing about her friend. "He's really great. With everything, I mean, he helped me so much in high school with my friends and my fashion and my anorexia." She mused almost to herself before her face fell. "Oh gosh, I'm really sorry about that, I never usually talk about it, it can be a bit weird for people."

Finn smiled generously and said, "Don't worry about it, it's nice that you feel so open with me to talk about it, considering we only met an hour and forty-five minutes ago."

Rachel laughed and nodded, "That's true."

"Besides," Finn continued, "We all have problems we go through. Especially in high school."

"Come on," Rachel said rolling her eyes, hitting him lightly on the arm, "You were a football player, you must've had it alright?"

"What, just because I was the quarterback with the cheerleader girlfriend, everything was easy?"

"Oh not _just _a football player, a quarterback you say? _With _the cheerleader girlfriend? Wow." Rachel smirked over at him.

"It's not all it's made out to be," Finn corrected, running a hand through his messy hair. "There's a lot of pressure, from teachers, friends and especially the cheerleader girlfriend. Quinn had this whole future planned out for us from about age fifteen. Getting away from all that at college and pursuing something that actually mattered to me was a much freer lifestyle and one that I preferred."

"Seems like things got a lot better for the both of us after high school then."

"I guess they did." Finn grinned, "High five for us." He held his hand up to her and she returned the gesture with a laugh.

"You have a beautiful laugh." Finn said softly, dropping his hand.

"Thank you," murmured Rachel, tucking a hair behind her ear coyly.

A silence fell in the lift, but it was not the awkward silence one would expect when left alone in a confined space with an almost stranger. But, Rachel pondered, Finn did not really feel like a stranger, she had confided so much in him by now. Of course she had been completely ridiculous bringing up her high school problems, but it had just slipped out from the casualness she felt sitting by his side. He too had disclosed a lot to her; she wondered if he had ever spoken so openly about his dreams in high school and his then-girlfriend.

She was right, naturally. Finn was usually so closed off about his private life, particularly the past, choosing instead to express himself through his art. With Rachel, however, it was completely different. He felt like he could tell her anything and she would never judge him, like so many had done previously and for once, she actually listened to him and was interested in him. He wasn't used to that very much after dating cheerleaders and then models once his career picked up. It was a nice change.

And this, this was a nice silence. He leaned his head back on the wall and shut his eyes, swallowing deeply. There was a feeling of calm and peace in the chamber, as though they were totally closed off from the outside world of bright lights and celebration and this night was meant just for them. Yet, however much Rachel thought this, she still was eager to meet up with Kurt and Blaine and enter the New Year with them. She checked her silver watch once more. It was 11pm, if she didn't get out soon, she would surely miss the countdown. Though, she reasoned, where was the harm in bringing in the New Year with Finn, if she was indeed still here by then.

Finally about fifteen minutes later, the lift jolted and began to move again. Rachel breathed a sigh of relief: she would just about make it, and she smiled joyfully. Finn stood up and took her hand to help her to her feet. She slipped back into her heels and said to him,

"Much better, right?"

He laughed and said, "I'm not sure, I like the small as well."

She wrinkled her nose and handed Finn his portfolio, thanking him.

The lift opened in the lobby and they stood together for a moment.

"Enjoy Times Square," Finn smiled.

"Enjoy your Chinese," returned Rachel, grinning. "It was nice to meet you," She extended her hand and he grasped it tightly, saying,

"You too." Then he let her hand drop and turned on his heel walking away. As Rachel did the same, he called over his shoulder, "Say 'hi' to Kurt and Blaine for me!"

"I will do!" She cried back, giggling to herself.

She tottered out the building and hailed the first taxi she could.

"Times Square, please." She asked, breathlessly.

"Going for the fireworks?" questioned the driver, moving off.

"Yes, that's right." She confirmed, fixing her hair in his rear-view mirror.

"Might be a bit of a rush," the driver continued, "You're getting out of the building pretty late."

"Yes," she agreed, "The lift got stuck."

"Oh no," He sympathised, "I hope it wasn't too bad for you."

"No," Rachel murmured, "It was just fine." She smiled to herself, sadly, thinking of the man she would never see again.

Reaching Times Square, she handed the driver some money and got out, as he told her to 'enjoy your night' and she told him she 'most certainly will'.

She dived into the crowd searching for her two friends somewhere among the mass of people. Eventually she noticed tall, thin, Kurt clutching hands with his small, perfectly groomed boyfriend.

"Ah," Kurt cried, throwing his arms out, "You made it! Where were you?"

"Sorry, sorry," She apologised extensively, "I was stuck in a lift." She smiled idiosyncratically to herself.

Kurt noticed almost immediately and eyed her, "What happened? You met someone didn't you?" He grinned widely, staring her down.

"Yes!" She admitted, biting her lip, "He was perfect Kurt, tall, handsome, funny, smart, creative, he's a photographer, oh Kurt, you have no idea!"

"Well is he here?" asked Blaine, looking over her shoulder.

"No," Rachel sighed, "He doesn't really 'do' New Year; he went home to get a takeaway."

"Shame," susurrated Kurt sadly, glancing up at the screen. The countdown was about to begin.

The people around them began to chant the numbers from ten.

"_Ten, nine, eight,"_

"Rachel!" She spun around hearing her name being called from somewhere behind her.

Finn was pushing his way through the crowd towards her.

"_Six, five, four," _

"Finn!" She cried, moving forward to his tall figure.

"_Two, one!"_

They reached each other as the ball dropped and Finn whispered, "Happy New Year." He took her face in his hands, and brushed a hair out of her eyes. He pulled her face up to his, and closed the gap between their lips. He massaged her tender lips and nibbled at her bottom lip, his tongue darting inside. She moved with him affectionately and softly and pushed against him with her mouth, smiling as she kissed him.

They broke apart to sounds of whistling and cheering, and Kurt's smirking face grinning at Blaine, kissing him tenderly as he did so.

"You know," murmured Finn, "I think I'm beginning to understand the whole New Year's Eve thing."

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><p><strong>RR x**


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